General Stuff.

Health wise I've been a bit up and down of late, but if there is one antidote to an attack of the dismals and glums, it's my furry friend Flash.

My nightly nocturnal visitor Flash.

He (or could be she but I'll go with he) has taken to lying down while tucking into the pile of Peanuts I put out, as demonstrated in the photo above, though you can't really make it out. I take that, probably incorrectly, as a good sign, that he's relaxed and comfortable despite being just a couple of feet from my back door. 

He's settled into a regular routine now, coming at around 11 pm each night, and it is a real treat and a privilege to be able to watch such a creature at this close range - his visits never fail to put a smile on my face and as I watch him make his way across the back garden and up and over the small wall at the back as he leaves each night, I always feel a little better.

There is no interaction between us though, I just stand and watch in silence as he tucks in, although I'm sure he knows I'm there. I have seen videos of people hand feeding wild Badgers, they've got that used to each other's presence, but that's not for me - I want to retain all my fingers thank you all the same, and besides, I want him to maintain a healthy caution around we humans and not get too trusting.

Where his Sett is I really don't know, but one night he arrived with his fur all teased up like a busy Duran Duran fan club reunion - all fluffy like a towel dried dog. What he'd been up to to gain that appearance I don't know, but it could be his Sett is very nearby.

When we blokes wake up in the morning we have a good scratch, usually 'down there.' Women, not having the same physical features and being more polite anyway, rub their eyes. Badgers apparently come out of their Sett on waking and have a good old grooming session, often lying on their backs while they scratch their stomachs and generally look like they're really enjoying themselves. So maybe he was fresh from a good grooming that night, but his Badger Bouffant wasn't to last as the heatwave broke and we had some heavy rain, and it was a very spikey haired, bedraggled looking Badger that rocked up on my doorstep on Saturday night. More of a Punk Badger then.

Peanuts, as also fed to the birds, and Peanut Butter sandwiches are among his nightly nosh, wet dog food and often a handful of grapes, maybe a couple of small lumps of cheese complete the feast. I wasn't sure at first what to feed him, but a quick look on the internet found all the above are fine for him. 

Despite being Omnivores, veritable waste disposals that are said to eat absolutely anything, Flash here is a little fussy and unlike many of his ilk, he doesn't like Bananas or Tomatoes. That's fine though as I do, and my shopping bill has gone up enough as it is recently without adding more items just for wildlife consumption. So I'll stick to buying tinned dog food, Peanuts and Peanut Butter especially for him and he can have any other scraps I leave out as a bonus. I swear some nights he eats better than I do though...

I was asked elsewhere why I fed him - a question that actually stumped me to start with. It's just an instinct really I suppose, when I first realised I had a Badger rummaging and bustling about my back garden it never entered my head not to put something out for him. It just seems natural to me to help such animals along a bit, the same as I feed the birds and would do likewise for anything else that wandered in like a Hedgehog or a Fox. There is also a slightly selfish element too of course in that I enjoy seeing him and want him to come back, but in the main it's just good to give the wild beasties we share the planet with a little help, and anyway, Badgers are fantastic animals that in my opinion, are very harshly treated and unjustly regarded by many. He's a cute little beastie too!

When taking photos of Flash, I've found sticking the compact on full auto and flipping up the flash works best. I've tried other modes but the camera always struggled for focus or correct exposure in the poor light, yet for some reason on auto it's fine. Less the camera's fault and more like operator error in truth, but I also would rather watch my visitor than mess about with cameras trying to get the ideal shot.

Anyway, to the Bimbles, and as usual a couple of rides have occurred, fresh air has been greedily gulped and views as eagerly consumed as those sandwiches Flash enjoys.

The first ride was just a quick boot around my usual loop, on a cloudy, humid day , but one that threatened no rain.

I wasn't in much of a photographic mood, nor actually when I started out, a riding/poking about mood, but I soon started to enjoy things as I made my way along the ever so familiar back lanes in my 'hood.

 Trying to get half decent photos with a cycling element for each ride as required by a Flickr group I'm in means I struggle sometimes for subject matter and inspiration. How many more shots I can wring out of Tregassow Lane I don't know but I must be near to reaching 'peak photo' soon...

To approach each ride with a sense of wide eyed wonder, no matter how familiar the territory, is a sure way to make the ride a rewarding success. Even the smallest of curiosities catch the eye and prick the interest, such as this quite remarkable feather, that I believe once belonged to a Pheasant. How such a striking 'colourway' to use the modern vernacular, is achieved in a single feather is to me, extraordinary. One side brown leading into vibrant blue, white and black stripes, while the other side a white fading to solid black is quite some pigmentary going. Ask a car body sprayer to do that and see his smile drop...

I only think this was a Pheasant's because nearby were a lot of bloody pheasant feathers where some poor beast met a presumably violent end, although there was no body to be seen anywhere, just the feathers. This one though, really stood out isolated as it was from all the others and thanks to that incredible colouring.

I've always enjoyed seeing weather related photographs, and would like to take more myself, where the weather is the focus rather than being an incidental to another bike shot.

There wasn't much physical weather on this day though, nothing you could feel directly, other than the closeness and stickiness of another humid day. But the sky was a tad ominous looking at times so that would have to do. Note the damned overhead wires - I can't seem to point a camera anywhere lately without there being overhead wires ruining the skyline.

Another location a bit further round and it was out with the DSLR and telephoto zoom for a haze filled shot. One good thing about all these turbines dotted about the place is they do make for a focal point in an otherwise very bland and unphotographable (do what?) shot. Without that spinamathing there, it wouldn't be a photo worth taking. With it, and that lump of moody cloud above, it just about scrapes in as being worthy of taking as a portrayal of the day as I saw it.

I say I'd like to take more weather shots, well I would, and am currently fending off my retail therapy instinct and trying to stop myself pulling the trigger on a new camera solely for bad weather. None of my current gear is weather sealed, the exception being the GoPro, but with little control over that, and the bland photos that result in low contrast light, it isn't ideal.

I've got my shopping eye firmly on an Olympus TG-5 though, a fully waterproof compact camera that shoots in RAW mode (a real bonus for when trying to rescue or add a bit of zap to an otherwise dull photo in post processing) and is to all intents and purposes, a 'normal' camera, but one that can be taken swimming and even well below the surface, though not by me - I just want to shoot freely in the rain and maybe dip it in the occasional ford or stream... Hmmm... it is so tempting to think I only live once and to just go for it, but it also seems a rather extravagant purchase when I've got other cameras already. It's a bummer being sensible sometimes... 

Friday, after a day or two with a sore back, saw me desperate to get out of the house once again, and so I pointed the Marin out of my gate with a first visit to a Nature Reserve in mind.

I recently changed the tube in the rear wheel after having the audacity to pump up a Schwalbe inner tubed tyre, and then having it go completely flat immediately afterwards. Sure enough, the tube had failed at the base of the valve stem, despite me using the locking ring to hold it steady while pumping. What is going on at Schwalbe I don't know, but it's not the first of their tubes I've had that happen to, or maybe it's something I'm doing wrong?

Anyway, a Specialized tube installed and successfully inflated, I set off and I must say, the Marin is fantastic bike to ride when its tyres are pumped up hard. I've got about 30 psi in both ends, hard for a plus sized mountain bike tyre, but by crikey does the bike feel lively and up for action! 

It begs to be slapped from side to side with the rider out of the saddle and pedaling hard, or would with a fitter of body rider than myself, but still. I love how it instantly responds to pedaling and steering input when those 3 inch tyres are pumped full of air, and how commandingly aggressive those wide bars and the front end geometry feel as I accelerate away from stops or round corners and so on. Once again I'd set off needing to get out but also still in a bit of a mental haze, a bit 'meh' as they say on the internet, moodwise, but within seconds of mounting the Marin I was grinning like a dead horse as I booted it down the road more like a sprinter with an imminent attack of diarrhoea than an old bimbler out for a putter about.

Tricky light and a lack of talent make for an odd looking photo here. It's an attractive setting (to me at least) and the sky was looking nicely moody, but also the bike was in a very dark area so I spent a while pulling away at the shadows while trying to balance the overall look out, and not really succeeding. But there we go and I'm still happy enough to put up my 'not so successful' shots rather than only my best ones.

Another shot of this old garage/shed in the middle of nowhere near St Allen.

The weather forecast had suggested the possibility of showers, maybe thundery, and I must admit to feeling slightly excited at that prospect as I eyed up the brooding skies and felt the clingy warmth of the humid day.

As a child, my mother, who was a bit of a worrier anyway, used to put the wind up my sister and I whenever we had a thunderstorm with her warnings to stay away from the windows. That may have been borne out of some experience or story she'd read or heard of some incident, I don't know, but it certainly added a frisson of nervous excitement whenever the first rumble of thunder was heard. Everything had to be unplugged as well, and there was an air of hunkering down to proceedings that didn't gain the approval of my dad, who often suggested she was frightening we children. Well I wasn't so much frightened to be honest as excited, and I still am when it comes to a good thunderstorm - I love them.

I enjoy the anticipation in the air as a storm nears - if home I track them on various live storm radar sites, and always resented being at work in the past when a storm hit because I had to ignore it, all adult like, when all I wanted to do was savour every moment of it.

There was a fresh wind blowing too, although a very warm one, but it still was enough to blow the tree tops around noisily, and that added to the atmosphere of moody expectation.

So I rode on in the hope of experiencing a storm, but one never came, only a couple of sprinkles of light rain that for just a few brief moments, smelled wonderfully fresh.

Random lane/tree shot.

I was heading for a Nature Reserve near the hamlet of Little Callestock, an area I ride often, but it also means dealing with my nemesis - the flipping A30 again. What's more, unlike recent rides, I hadn't left at silly o'clock in the morning, but instead late morning, so the road would without doubt be hellishly busy and a proper bugger to get across.

The most direct route from my house is to take what appears to be a dead end country lane, cut in half by the A30 that crosses on an embankment. The lane used to go straight into the heart of Zelah village, and now the car driver must go a longer way round but for pedestrians, and those with bicycles, access can still be had via steps up and down either side of the A30. 

Start of the steps up and over the A30. The road actually carries on straight across, it's just buried under tons of embankment built when the A30 was realigned and upgraded many years ago. It's just a pity they couldn't have put a short tunnel in to keep this lane more navigable.

Looking back from those steps saw a local farmer out flinging shit about muck spreading with a rather small for the job at hand looking trailer.

Reaching the top of the steps I found traffic on the A30 heading East at a crawl. Looking left and right just revealed solid traffic. In the past this would mean an accident somewhere up the line but nowadays it's probably just the sheer volume of traffic being held up briefly at the Zelah turning or Carland Cross roundabout a short way beyond. This heavy traffic would though be in my favour, as it meant one column was slow moving, I just had to wait for a gap in the Westbound flow to nip across.

It is obvious to any observant driver that a path crosses the road at that point due to the presence of Armco barriers, paving slabs and a gate, and sure enough, as I stood beside the bike at right angles to the road, several cars going East slowed trying to let me across but the faster moving Westbound lot weren't being so generous. Eventually though, a gap appeared just big enough to allow me to nip across and in front of another waiting East facing driver (who I gave a relieved nod and thumbs up by way of thanks) and I was across at last.

 Down the steps the other side of the A30 and back onto the remains of the lane, now a footpath, and I thought perhaps I'd over slept a little that morning and woken up in October, such were the leaves lying around here. My back garden is much the same as it happens, I'm sure July isn't usually as leafy underfoot (or bike tyre) as this.

Time for a riding shot as I Marinated the lanes around Little Callestock.

Destination reached - the Chyverton Nature Reserve.

Unless you stumbled across it on the Wildlife Trust's web page, you'd be unlikely to know this feature exists, there being no road signs to inform the traveler on the roads, just this one on the gate set back from the tarmac a way.

Hmmmm... no signs, no car park, no visitor centre or gift shop, what sort of an attraction is this eh? Oh well, crack on...

Now I've seen these Reserves on my TV, and very exciting they all look too, but where are the tour trucks? The rifle toting guides? Oh well, I'll just plot up here for a bit to see if I can spot any Rhino, Giraffes or Zebras. Maybe if I'm really lucky, a Leopard, as I've heard they are spotted all over... Geddit? Spotted all over... oh ok...

Well it's a poor show so far animal wise, plenty of droppings about but no sign of any beasts at all. But still, there was the Heather to look at I suppose.

At times the paths leading around the place were easy to follow, at others they appeared to disappear completely, even despite the presence of this signpost as it just wasn't clear beyond here where the path actually was.

In places it was also surprisingly soggy and boggy still, and both bike and pusher were sinking into the clug at times. What it's like in Winter I don't know, but I don't think I'll be finding out. Riding in here wasn't an option at all, so I was having to push the bike, me not having a lock with me and just not wanting to leave the bike somewhere however safe it looked.

At the back of the reserve the track becomes obvious again as it goes along the top of a bank, possibly an old Cornish hedge. It is narrow along there though in places, and not easy to walk beside the bike.

All good fun though even if all this pushing and heaving doesn't do my back any good, and by this point it was starting to feel rather raw, a sure sign of upcoming discomfort and pain in the days ahead.

That bank ends in the corner of a wood. To the right, a big fence and privately owned area of the woodland, elsewhere... there must be a path... somewhere. I left the Marin propped against that tree while I went ahead to scout out where the path went as again it just wasn't clear. In the end, I opted to just stick beside the fence, and as it turned out, I was right as the path appeared again as I fumbled my way along.

 The path is clearly visible again here, as is that rather old and large looking fungusy thing.

Peering underneath it looks almost like rough concrete.

That was pretty much it for the Nature Reserve. It seems like a lot of moaning I've done but in reality I enjoyed myself, mooching and poking about, and if I knew more about what I was looking at, or could be looking for plant wise, I'd no doubt have enjoyed it even more. There may even be exotic species of Butterfly or Beetle or something to be seen, but I'm not up on such matters so just enjoyed the general ambience of the place.

From there I opted for a ride along the nearby Byways around Cotton Springs before heading homewards.

See what I mean about the photo enabling qualities of the wind turbine? Slightly menacing looking skies failed to deliver anything of note.

It might not look like it, but this Byway at Cotton Springs is open to all traffic. Thankfully you're more likely to encounter a horse and rider than something with an engine.

Having set off later than normal, and not being a breakfasteer, my stomach was growling like a grumpy Bear as it was gone lunchtime and so I got a move on, not stopping for any more photos or looking about, but made my back home going beneath the A30 West of Zelah to avoid having to cross it again. It added a couple of miles to the journey home but takes out a bit of stress so I was all up for that.

Just about half a mile from home and there was a brief but heavy shower - again no thunder, but a very pleasant wave of cool, fresh smelling air accompanied the refreshing rain as I reached my back gate. I was a bit damp but feeling mentally far better than I had been for quite a while. Physically I was hungry and more worryingly, had knackered my back, but hey ho, it was worth it. If a couple of days of pain and restricted movement is the price I have to pay for a ride out then it's a price worth paying. It has become a bit of a recurring cycle in fact - go for a ride, strain my back, spend a few days lying down/taking it very easy until I've recovered, then straight back out for another ride and repeat it all again.

Looking at that typed on the screen it seems a bit daft to put up with a couple of days of pain and stiffness for the sake of a couple of hours bike riding, but the alternative is to not go out at all, and that just isn't going to happen. As long as I can still physically get on and ride a bike I will keep going out until the recovery period seriously outweighs the riding, or I can't mount a bike at all.

Now, it being Monday, I'm pretty much back to normal again, whatever the hell normal is, so hopefully will get out tomorrow for another ride.

Crappy map, with the Nature Reserve shown around point 5. The betterer fullerer details can be found HERE

Now then... Olympus TG-5s...

Whore's Drawers Red or...

Sexy black? It would have to be the black if I decide to go for one... Hmmmm...

-----------

A Bonanza of Byways and Bridleways.

Two more rides to catch up on, not a lot to say about them here, other than they involved plenty of rather splendid off roadery, so I'll let the captions do the talking.

As ever, if a photo looks fuzzy, right click and open link in a new tab will show it off properly.

Last Wednesday saw me booting Fatso up the road with the aim of visiting the Trendeal Bridleway once again. This Bridleway, near Ladock, is a favourite for a bit of a mooch as it passes through a sunken lane, along the edge of fields across a hilltop, down the edge of a wood and so on. It's great for getting into those places other folk don't often reach.

The point where I leave the main road through Ladock at Gunnamanning and briefly follow a farm track.

The bridge is over a stream that runs into the Tresillian River.

Unlike some, this Bridleway is well marked so easy to find.

Through a gate and immediately you find yourself in some scraggy woodland.

Just to the right and behind those trees in the background are the ruins of a pair of cob and stone cottages which were abandoned in the 1960s.

The ruins are completely covered in vegetation and I've frequently tried to get a decent photo of them but always failed as you just can't make anything out.

The Bridleway then travels uphill through a sunken lane which isn't steep but the ground is littered with large loose stones, bits of branch and so on so riding up it needs care at times.

Near the top is another gate - one of many on this particular track.

Through that gate and you're onto the hilltop field. The track passes along the very edge of the field, and whilst a tad lumpy isn't too bad at all.

The morning was overcast and muggy, with plain skies - a pain for taking photos as without any graduated filters I always blow the skies out.

See what I mean?

But I mustn't complain, standing in this field for a few moments was what riding these Bridleways is all about - peace and quiet and gawping at views few other folk get to see.

A gap in that Cornish Hedge revealed a solitary Sheep in an adjoining field. I think he may have been an escapee from another field that was full of the beasts.

Another gate to negotiate which leads to...

Another sunken lane that skirts the edge of Ladock Woods (off to the left in this photo).

Down the sunken lane off the top of the hill and you reach another gate and this is where the adrenaline kicks in. Signs warn of the presence in this field of a Bull. 
Deep joy.

The Bridleway heads straight across the field towards that tree that's sticking out dead ahead of Fatso here. As usual, I had a good look up and down to see if the Bull was home, but couldn't see anything. Although, as usual, there were large, smelly signs that something lurked here...

Quite a few Cow pats/Bull poops to avoid, but no sign of the beast that dropped them.

A quick swerve round some big stones and fallen branches and I reached the safety of the far gate. Wherever the resident of that field is, he must be good at hiding 'cos as I say, this field has always appeared empty other than for the many poops that litter the ground. 

Through that last gate and the track becomes a tad lumpier. The first time I rode along here was on the old Rattletrap Carrera. This section was very overgrown then and unable to see where some of the bigger lumps were I ended up falling off into the bushes as the front wheel dived into a divot and snapped the bars hard to the right.

Fatso though handles these lumps and bumps with aplomb, rolling over them without trouble.

Another gateway, another view. Ladock Woods in the background. Just at the end of the Bridleway now, at the hamlet of Trendeal.

Back onto tarmac and erm... some decorations for my shed...

This sort of velocity on the road makes for a lovely rasping noise on the Fatbike, not unlike that of a Land Rover, or a swarm of Wasps perhaps.

Heading homeward I took the Boswiddle route, and as per usual, I had a stop at the ford for a look around, and was treated to the sight of this quite garish looking fungus growing on an old log.

I didn't want to touch it in case it bit me or something.

Map of the day's manoeuvres, fuller details are HERE

Whenever I've ridden that Bridleway in the past, I have always had to negotiate a mud bog the whole width of the track where the farmer accesses a couple of his fields, but with all this dry weather we've been enjoying, for once I made it home with a cleanish bike, boots and trousers. I haven't cleaned any of my bikes in weeks, they are all a bit dusty and oily in places, but it hardly seems worth the effort just for a little dust. Being someone who likes to have a clean bike, but hates washing them, this has been a great Summer so far, long may it continue.

Having thoroughly enjoyed the ride described above, and once again desperately in need of time out of the house and into the quiet of the countryside, I set off early on Saturday morning, once again aboard Fatso, for some more Bridleway bashing and some beach time too.

We had some light rain overnight but not enough to make much difference to anything. The roads were dry once more, even under tree cover, as once again it was very warm and humid, even just after sunrise. Quite a lot of mist lurking about too.

 View through a hedge straight into the sun, and then...

Turning to the right.

The combination of the mist acting like a large light diffuser, and zooming in make the sun look huge in this shot of the A30.

One good reason for starting early is being able to get across the A30 relatively easily. At least heading out anyway. This was the first Saturday of the school Summer holidays, and the roads would be hellish all day - even busier than normal, and later I would have to cross the A30 again, and with great difficulty too.

Once over the main road I bozzed along the flat tarmac for a couple of miles to Goonhavern. I had thought I might head out via Zelah and then along the Bridleways and Byways around Carnkief to Goonhavern, but as I ride those quite often, this time I opted for getting some miles in and going straight along the road.

Once into Goonhavern it's a quick dodge over the mini roundabouts onto the Perranporth road for a short distance and then a left onto the Byways around Reen.

The first section of Byway is very pleasant indeed, especially early in the morning. This is entirely flat and the surface good, and with just the occasional fleeing Rabbit for company.

The route of the Byway emerges from under the tree cover at a crossroads with a country lane. Follow the track straight ahead and it immediately changes character. Gone is the smooth fine gravel and overhanging trees and instead you have a rough track used by farm tractors over more open countryside, bordered on each side by high hedges. The tractor tyres make their usual scars on the ground when it's wet, and the horses tend to travel up the middle strip, all of which makes for lumpy bumpy bimbling, but still most enjoyable in the silent mist that still lingered here.

Another crossing of a country lane, some dodging here and there round cottages and seemingly through driveways and you're onto the final section of Bridleway and the first glimpse of my goal for the day - Perranporth.

I love it when Bridleways or Byways offer a very viable, practical alternative to using the roads to get somewhere, and at this time of year when the tracks aren't muddy, using this route to Perranporth is a real delight. They also offer a mild shortcut compared to going by road, not lopping much off, maybe a mile, but still.

Hello I thought, they've hung the bunting out for me. It turned out though it wasn't to welcome me to their town, but was actually Carnival Day, and later the main street here would be closed for the big procession.

I was here only a few weeks ago, back in May I think, and at about 8 am on a Saturday it was no busier now than it was then.

Random retail and food shot.

The poorly composed photo half excludes the banner on the left that proudly highlights the delights of this 'shopping centre' or row of slightly tatty shops as it might otherwise be known, but if you can read the banner, you can see the shops anyway.

Right then, once more onto the beach we go.

Looking North...

Then 'Down West.'

Fatso wuz 'ere.

Grumpy looking sky there...

Coming back off the beach again. Dogs are allowed on the beach all year round, but must be on a lead between 9 am and 5 pm in July and August, so the beach was busy with dog owners letting their pooches run free before the watershed arrived. Is there a more pleasing sight than that of dogs haring about chasing balls and each other and just having damned good fun?

As the Crow flies is a well known saying to describe a straight line twixt a couple of places, but Rooks it appears might still need help with directions.

At least I think Ugly Mug there is a Rook, but whatever he is he doesn't want to be going to Newquay - go to St Agnes mate, much nicer.

I left Perranporth on the route I always use - past the Co-Op and the Fire Station on Station Road as it's the only way out of the place that doesn't involve going up a socking great hill. 

Usually though I go straight on when I reach Bolingey, but having decided on having some more off road fun I turned right into Mill Road which passes beneath the disused Chacewater and Newquay branch line. The line, opened in 1905, was closed in 1963 but several remnants of it can still be found in the area. Up until about the early 1980s there was still a magnificent old tin Pagoda waiting room at the site of the old Goonbell halt, but the cutting it sat in was filled in and a house built on top. Somewhere I have a colour print of that Pagoda and other shots taken in the late 70s along the remains of the line, so I must look them out and do some before and after shots.

Mill Road from Bolingey changes name to Penwartha Road and follows the course of a stream for a while. Before long though I found the sign for the Byway that leads past Lambriggan.

Being a Byway this track is open to motor traffic, and indeed, while setting up for the above riding shot, I had to get the tripod and bike out of the way sharpish as an off road motorcyclist on a Honda Enduro bike came along, obviously with the same intentions as me, exploring the little used public rights of way on two wheels. My tyres were almost as fat as his too!

The track crosses a small stream by way of a ford and footbridge. Unusually for me I took the bridge, I normally like a good splash but t'was but a puddle really and not worth dipping the tyres into.

Over my right shoulder as I took this photo is an area marked on the council mapping as being the site of a Medieval Settlement called Nancelone. This settlement was first recorded way back in 1302 apparently, when it was known as Nanslowen, a Cornish name with Nans meaning Valley and Lowen meaning Happy, so Happy Valley then. There's nothing to see now apparently, but it makes me wonder if this track existed back then and was used by the people settled there.

Looking back the way I'd come and then...

Up the hill ahead. The track here gets a bit stony and rough, but is still perfectly navigable on a bicycle. Just around the bend in the distance though it steepens slightly and a trough is formed down the middle of the track by running water, making for a bit of a 'V' shape to the track, and a central channel that collects broken branches and loose rocks. That is a little harder going and rather than risk knackering my back with a sudden lurch or input of body language, I got off and pushed over the worst of it. 

Broken off Fungus lying on the floor of the track. I'll snap anything me...

Eventually the track passes through the farm yard at Lambriggan where a settlement was first recorded in 1339 , and where I caught a tantalising glimpse of a very old tractor lurking in an open fronted shed. It was a bit close to a farm house for comfort though, so not wanting to attract attention I rode on, but now regret it as I reckon it would make for a great photo.

The Byway emerges onto a country lane just after the farm and from there it was down to the village of Callestick.

Callestick is home to Healey's Cider Farm, and in the overspill car park there is this big spinamathing.

I reckon this is 50-60 feet to the hub of the big fan bit, so a mediumish sized jobbie, but it's unusual to be able to get right up to such a device. Normally they're on private land or fenced off, so I took the opportunity to nip in and have a close up look.

 Up in Devon a couple of years ago, two wind turbines near each other were felled by acts of apparent anti turbine vandalism - someone undid those nuts around the base and when the wind got up, over they went. Sod that for a laugh, I wouldn't want to be tampering with those nuts, I wouldn't even like being this close to the thing if it were turning.

It being a still day, the turbine was motionless and contrary to popular belief among the anti brigade, the ground around it wasn't littered with the bodies of dead birds. I often wonder how many of the anti turbine brigade who trot that poor excuse out own cats...

Entering Callestick.

A quick stop in Callestick to decide which way I wanted to head home, so a look at the map was in order. I opted to head towards Truro and that meant crossing the A30 again on a crossroads without any central refuge/hatched areas, so it is best crossed in one go. 

Oh what fun that turned out to be - not. I must've waited patiently at the junction for a good ten minutes with not a glimmer of a gap in the traffic from either direction let along both at once. In the end though, a car coming from the West indicated right and slowed up, allowing me to get into the road in front of him and wait safely for a gap in oncoming traffic. There was no natural gap and we both sat there for a while before an oncoming driver slowed and flashed us across. Crossing that road on a bicycle really is becoming a joke on busy days.

Back in the day a truck would create a handy gap due to the single lane roller coaster nature of the road, grinding down the gears and up the hills and letting faster traffic get ahead. Now though, with the traffic heavy and moving at a steady 40ish mph, and the trucks being ever more powerful, they keep up with the flow and the result is just continuous lines of traffic with little in the way of breaks.

Soon though, all that will change, as this last single carriageway section of the A30 is set to be re-routed and dualled. I'm not one for building and concreting/tarmacing over everything, but I must admit, that new road can't come fast enough. Good provisions are in the plans for local traffic, pedestrians and cyclists to cross the main road easily and safely, so bring it on I say.

A ride along roads to Allet and then Shortlanesend followed, and it was at the latter that I took to the shared path that runs towards Truro.

I can remember when this was all fields... It was about two years ago. The path hasn't changed, it still follows its old route, but on the left here the Cornish Hedge has gone and the field that lay beyond is now rammed with new builds. There are more new houses on the other side of the main road too.

Unlike some cycle lanes or shared paths, I can't see why cyclists wouldn't use this one, but this pair didn't want to, and of course, they don't have to use it if they don't want to. A lot of such paths are littered with debris thrown up by nearby traffic and are a puncture just waiting to happen. This path though is just a pleasant pedal away from the fast moving main road.

Instead of following that path all the way to Truro, I hung a left, followed the lane down into Idless then through the woods there towards home.

View through a gate at Treworgan Vean. There were some ominous looking clouds roaming about and sure enough, we had a brief shower just as I arrived home, but it was all over in a few seconds. It's been a good few years since we had such dry and hot weather, I can't even remember the last time we had a wet day.

This was another beltingly good ride, with everything I look for and need - peace, quiet, and solitude to work things out in my head and rid myself of all the pent up frustrations and angers. Good riding through decent countryside and an interesting destination. Some new to me Byway action too, and all in ideal weather.

The day started off warm and humid, and stayed that way pretty much, just getting hotter towards the end of my ride, so I didn't drink all the squash I'd put in the two bottles I carried. Fatso only has one bottle mount, but the twin top tube Mixte frame makes for a convenient place to stash a second bottle secured with a Velcro strap.

For about twenty miles of riding, it didn't feel like it had much uphill work either, a rare thing in this county indeed!

Fatso is now starting to look a little too mucky for my liking though, having a thick coating of dust in various places, and a back wheel spotted with chain lube and so on. Sooner or later I'm going to break out the pressure washer and give in to my clean bike urges, but for the moment, it's had a quick wipe of the chain and is ready for the next ride again. We've just had the lead story on the BBC lunchtime news that the Met office has issued a yellow weather warning for a heatwave, whatever that entails, so there's no sign of the hot weather ending just yet.

Meanwhile, in other news, I'm about to change the tube in the back wheel of the Marin. I'm betting it has got a Schwalbe tube in it, as it did the front when I changed that. Likewise when I changed the tubes on Fatso - they were Schwalbes too, and all suffered the same fate, going completely flat just after I'd pumped up the tyres because they were a tad soft.

I don't know if it's me, my pump fitting (I use two different pumps though) or just crap tubes, but I'm not the only one who has had this issue with Schwalbe tubes after pumping them up. It seems they develop a pinhole leak around the base of the valve somehow, flexing of the valve stem presumably during the pumping operation (despite me using the locknut), but whatever it is, it's flipping annoying!

The full details of the ride are HERE which will allow zooming in to see the route properly.

Right, time to battle with the Marin's back wheel, so no proofreading just yet, I'm going to live on the wild side and recklessly just hit publish - proper risk taker me see.

Right, Happy Bimbling!

----------------